


The sky, mostly stars, partly void

by GreenQueenofClubs



Category: The Avengers (2012), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Clint is Cecil, F/M, M/M, No Tentacles, Phil is Carlos, Wing Kink, Wingfic, avengers AU taking place in Night Vale, sorry - Freeform, usual night vale weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenQueenofClubs/pseuds/GreenQueenofClubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello, citizens of Night Vale. I, Clint Barton, speak to you tonight with one question in mind. What kind of cruel twist of faith decided to make me live my life for so long without letting me experience the joy of meeting the wonderous Phil? Who could contain so much hatred as to keep our community from the exctasy of his presence amonst us for so many dull years? Such are the answers we need, Night Vale!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sky, mostly stars, partly void

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a long while to decide which of them should be Cecil and which could be Carlos. I wanted to make Phil Cecil because Clint definitly could use a good dose of adoration, but finally decided it would make Phil ooc, so I switched. 
> 
> Yes, I'm aware the right line is The sky, mostly void, partly stars. It's the point.

"Goodnight, Night Vale, Good Night."

Clint Barton closed his microphone, turning away with a little sigh and a wistful smile, while Intern Lewis tidied up the rest of the office. She looked up when he exited his boot, eyes sparkly and only a little terrified.

They were due for another general Nightmare, the citizens were getting a tad too much serene. Clint would have to remember to hang his microwave on his bedroom door to keep the dream eaters at bay this time.

"You sounded chipper tonight, Mister Barton. Someone new in town?"

Clint answered her saucy grin with one of his own, stealing the coffee cup she had left on her desk.

“You know you’re the only woman for me, Darce.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, flapping her hair.

“You flatterer! Now if only you weren’t so gay you could barely function, it could actually lead to something.”

Clint grinned at her, taking her files from her hands.

“Go home, I’ll finish here.”

She glared at him.

“You’re working too hard.”

Clint rolled his eyes at her.

“Your opinion wasn’t needed on that matter.”

She huffed, spinning around and grabbing her coat.

“Mark my word, Boss, one day I’ll find a man for you!”

“Scram!”

She threw him a reluctant, offended look, but did as he told. Clint needed time on his own sometimes, times to bask a bit in silence, and the interns learnt so the first morning they came into  the station.

He made sure every file and research folder was exactly where it should be, should the Sheriff’s Secret Police come and investigate while he was away. It wouldn’t do to grate them by misplacing something; he didn’t want another re-education.

It was nearly 20h30 when he was done, and he swore silently—he trained himself out of swearing out loud years ago, it wasn’t radio attractive—and slipped on the coat’s arms he always kept, the ones that left his back bare. As he stepped out of the building, he let his wings spread out freely, running a few steps to gain momentum and fly away.

He usually didn’t fly at night, it was too dangerous to run into something dangerous in the dark, but he was in a rush, so he would have to make an exception. It was a shame he risked freefalling to his death, because Night Vale was truly gorgeous at night, for the Midnight All Night Dinner that glowed prettily to Cassandra, Old Woman Josie’s granddaughter who had had one too many meeting with the Angels _who definitely didn’t exist_ and was bathed into Heavenly Lights.

He made it to the Town Meeting just a little bit late, hopefully not enough for the Mayor to take offense at his behavior. He helped himself to a Corn Muffin, hoping they would be better than the ones the town’s mechanic, Tony Stark, brought last time. Clint was pretty sure it was Old Woman Josie’s turn to bring them, and as such, were eatable and most likely not poisoned or mixed with Engine Oil.

Mayor Hill was talking about the new Dog Park, which no one can enter, look at or think about, ever. EVER

Clint, already made aware of all that, in his quality of the Voice of Night Vale, and took the opportunity to look around and make sure that Reed Richards was still an asshole and made himself a mental not to forget to check his car to see if he replace his hubcap yet. He probably hadn’t.

_Reed Richards._

Maybe he should wrap his car in tinsel. Too bad toilet paper and duct tape were absolutely forbidden by the City Counsel. Maybe he could rope in Tony to throw eggs at his door, this time.

He was talking with Natasha Romanoff, the owner of the Lingerie Boutique in Old Town Night Vale and the town’s best self defense instructor. Clint still ached from the lesson she gave him two days prior. It was a shame the Head Hooded Figure, who was absolutely not nicknamed Fury because that would be illegal, saw fit to chase Bucky Barnes right into her shop, after which they fought for hours and fell in love at first sight. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t be life-ruiningly terrifying _and_ a romantic match maker.

"Clint!"

Steve Rogers called him over, beaming at him as he was wont to do. Beside him was a man Clint had never saw, and from the moment the Radio Announcer saw him, nothing seemed more unfair than that fact.

What kind of malevolent spirit would wish to keep Clint away from the perfect beauty of the man, from his shiny hair to his sparkling eyes and his strong brow and his magnificently crooked nose?

He was looking at Clint, eyes momentarily confused before he molded his face into a calm mask, holding out his hand.

"Phil Coulson, pleasure to meet you."

Clint tried to clear his throat unnoticeably, and hoped his hand wasn’t too sweaty as he returned the handshake. His voice was schooled into his best suave and deep radio voice.

“Clint Barton, same.”

Phil’s seemed surprised for a moment, and he blurted seemingly without thinking about it.

“You have wings.”

Clint nodded and extended one for Phil—what a gorgeous, perfect name—to see.

“Yes, my mother left them to me when she died.”

Phil’s eyes were even more confused after that, but apparently more in control of himself, not asking any more questions. Steve calmly took over.

“Phil’s a government agent. He just came into town, to inspect Night Vale.”

Phil nodded, with a look of admiration to Steve. Clint wasn’t surprised. Steve was a famous artist, who stumbled into their little town a few years back to find inspiration, and never left. One of his old friends, Peggy Carter, was taking care of his gallery and fans back in New York. That Phil would know him wasn’t surprising because Clint could see that Phil was cultured and amazingly knowledgeable. And Clint wasn’t jealous. It would irrational to be jealous.

Phil turned back toward Clint.

“Your town is wonderfully peculiar, and we will be thrilled to explore it.”

Clint nodded in answer, because Phil must know what he’s talking about, even if he himself didn’t.  Phil kept going.

“I was wondering if I could count on your services, if I ever needed to broadcast a message.”

Clint’s heart stuttered. Phil wanted his help. He could help Phil! Once more, he blessed his rigorous radio training the Sheriff’s Secret Police forced on him once he got out of school, for it kept him for stuttering like the teenager who encounters their first five tailed giraffe.

“Yes, of course. I will be glad to.”

Phil smiled at him, and Clint instantly fell in love.

OOOOO

Phil strode in the radio station as Clint chanted traffic. The radio announcer hurried to queue the weather, walking gracefully out of the boot, and absolutely didn’t trip himself in his own feet.

“Phil! How did you get in? I thought Groovy was still keeping the door?”

The government agent twitched slightly.

“Hmm yes, quite a guard rabbit you have there. Hmm, your intern-Darcy?- let me in.”

Clint cursed Darcy for not advising him of that fact. That woman would get in trouble if she didn’t watch herself. Nevertheless he smiled widely, spreading his hands.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The man did a quick once over, and his square and extraordinarily muscled shoulders that stretched his suit in the most delectable manner relaxed, dropping several inches.

“I came to see you about the incident about the Shape in the Grove Park.”

Clint threw him a quizzical look, pleased that Phil had been listening to his emission, and puzzled that Phil would endanger himself so. That would not do. Clint swallowed his journalist’s pride.

“What Shape in The Grove Park?”

Phil seemed to remember the incident, and cleared his throat, looking around.

“Sorry, I didn’t think. Could I see the remains of Intern Woo? I would like to investigate them.”

Clint nodded eagerly; tearing himself away with difficulty from the dulcet tones of his Phil’s voice and the warmth of his beautifully proportionated body, and went to get the ashes.

“Please bring them here right after so that he can be buried in the way he truly deserves. We already dug his spot by the ATM machine.”

Phil nodded and took them, turning away. Just as was about to exit, he looked over his shoulder.

“Are you ok, Clint?”

His tone was somewhat different, somewhat softer, and Clint’s throat tightened.

“I’m fine.”

Phil nodded briskly and left. Clint gaped after him, engraving their interaction into his brain, into his very being, heart soaring into the sky, mostly void and partly stars.

Natasha came in to take him out to take him out to Big Rico’s with her and Bucky, took one look at him, hit him upside the head and dragged her away. Clint firmly ignored the frantic smiles and thumbs up Darcy sent him on his way out.

“You’re an idiot.”

Clint arched an eyebrow at her.

“I’m the Voice of Night Vale, Nat. I can’t be stupid.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Management do not suffer imbeciles. You are an idiot. It’s different.”

Clint sneered at him.

“You are a strong willed woman who I will certainly not compare to a female dog, Natasha.”

Her smile was shark-like.

“Just ask him out.”

Clint shrugged, picking at his plate.

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

Natasha hit him upside the head again.

“идиот!”

Clint glared at her.

“He always starts his calls by ‘I’m not calling for personal reasons’.”

Natasha was about to press when they were interrupted by the Yéti serving them. Bucky managed to distract her for the rest of the evening.

Clint would have to remember to send him a bunch of starfish to thank him.

OOOOO

“Clint, is there a floating corgi in the bathroom?”

Clint looked up from his notes at a carefully bland mask he was starting to see through, enough to see his flustered eyes.

Darcy, sat at her desk, was pretending very hard not to listen.

“Yes, that’s Dummy.”

Phil stared at him, his full lips agast.

“Dummy?”

Clint shrugged and tidied up his papers.

“Stark named him.”

Phil nodded, relieved to find one thing in the situation that made sense.

“Does it move?”

Clint smiled at him, not rolling his eyes, because while it was all child stuff, but he couldn’t blame Phil for being disoriented. After all, Clint had been dizzy all afternoon. Maybe the antenna was possessed again.

Darcy hid her laughter in her coffee cup. Maybe Clint should steal it again.

“No, that’s why Bucky installed him a little shelve for his water and food, and a little bowl for his excretions.”

Phil stared at him.

“You leave it there.”

Clint cocked an eyebrow, unsure of where Phil was going with that.

“Sometimes we play some Britney Spears, he’s a big fan.”

Phil sighed and turned around to gather a folder he brought with him.

“Ok, well, could you inform your listeners to be careful with the Organic Meat shop beside the Applebee’s. My assistant who went there came back with three new arms and a mauve skin tone.”

Clint stood up, rolling his shoulders and spreading his wings to pop out a few kinks that crept up his skin. When he looked back at the other man, Phil was staring at them, an adorable faint blush on his sculpted cheeks.

“Sure, it’ll be my pleasure.”

Clint extended his hand to take the folder, and the movement snapped Phil out of whatever strange trance that invaded his brilliant mind.

“Thank you, Clint.”

Clint smiled and Phil smiled back and it was perfect, absolutely perfect, until Phil left. Clint wasn’t disappointed. Phil was a busy man, and science never waited for anyone.

OOOOO

Clint was flying happily over his town, enjoying the wind and the setting sun. The things at the radio had been hectic these last few days, and he was relishing in his first time of peace and quiet since the Wheat and Wheat By-product Incident. Who knew they would be attacked by their favorite food? Certainly not Clint!

“Clint? Clint!”

For a moment he thought his imagination was playing tricks on him, adding the magnificent and unctuous voice of his beloved Phil in this moment to make it as splendid as it could. However, when he was called a third time, he looked down and saw Phil standing in the Grove Park, looking up at him.

He headed down and landed softly beside him, cocking his head. He knew that he looked somewhat like a hawk, as Natasha told him once, but that was a normal side effect of a good flight.

Phil looked daze, staring once again at the wings. Clint cleared his throat.

“Hello, Phil.”

Phil smile at him.

“Good Evening Clint.”

Clint looked around in the awkward silence.

“Can I help you with something?”

Phil gesture to his wings with his stunning jaw.

“I was wondering if I could take a look at them? You know, for science.”

Clint beamed at him and nodded, spreading both of them for Phil’s leisure. The government agent rounded him, and Clint ignored the usual hunted feeling having someone at his back because this was his amazing, perfect Phil.

“They are amazing Clint. An almost perfect replica of a hawk’s ones.”

Clint hummed, rolling his shoulder’s flexing his arms, showing off just a bit.

“The musculature you developed to use them is incredibly impressive and ho—impressive.”

Phil cleared his throat.

“It’s amazing that you can sustain flight with them, with your body mass.”

Clint smiled.

“They’re stronger than they look.”

Phil nodded, a faint blush on his cheeks, but that might be a trick of the setting sun, Clint wasn’t sure. He shrugged.

“I can fly with someone else, you know.”

Phil’s head snapped up, an excited spark in his radiant eyes, even if his picturesque face was still perfectly schooled.

“They can?”

Clint nodded and offered his hand. Phil took it hesitantly, and the radio announcer dragged him forward, pressing the older man against him.

“Wrap your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my thighs.”

Phil made a strange choking noise.

“Are- are you sure?”

Clint smiled and restrained himself with both hands not to swoon at the feeling, nodding.

“Of course, everything for Science, right?”

“Right, science.”

Phil’s glorious voice was shaky. It was normal just before his first flight. Nevertheless, he assumed the position Clint recommended. The radio announcer spread his hands on Phil’s thigh-completely innocently, of course—hoisted him higher and took the few steps he needed to take flight.

When his feet left the ground, Phil squeaked and held tighter. Clint didn’t sigh in delight, because he was a professional. He almost didn’t see the dark unicorn that threatened to impale them, but thankfully ducked in time.

After a while, Phil loosened his hold just a bit, trusting Clint not to let him fall, looking around, his bright eyes taking everything all at once. His face was open and happy, not unlike one a child, and Clint fell even more in love than he had been.

Even the dark unicorn was appeased and took back his original form. Clint would find it in himself to be sorry about the poor rhino that fell to his death and the hot dog car that was unfortunate enough to cushion its fall somewhat later.

Too soon, sadly, the night fell on Night Vale, forcing Clint to touch down. He held Phil against him for a few more moments; not because he was enjoying the fell of his beauteous body against his, simply the first time flyers would have cotton legs. It wouldn’t do for Phil to fall on his fair behind, after all.

Finally, he let the older man go, taking a step behind. Phil was steady on his feet, but his hands seemed to have forgotten how to let him go. Maybe they had flown a bit too long… Clint hoped they didn’t…

Phil looked up, and Clint mourned his incapacity to read his expression in the darkness.

“Thank you Clint.”

Clint smiled softly and ducked his head bashfully. Maybe Phil liked it enough to do it again, sometime.

“It was a pleasure.”

Phil nodded and took a step back, into the usual polite three feet distance he kept at all times.

“I should go.”

Clint nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Right. Do science things.”

Phil nodded, and almost turned away, but seemed to think better of it, reaching and squeezing Clint’s arm once.

“Good night, Clint.”

Clint beamed at him.

“Good night, Phil, good night.”

OOOOO

Clint was petting Dummy, hidden in the bathroom, trying to calm himself from the day’s events. To hear from Phil’s adventures in the now miniature city that lies beneath the pin retrieval area of lane 5 in the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Fun Complex had taxed him more than anything in his life. To hear all about it and not be able to help, it was awful.

Just like the night his father invoke a demon to sell his mother to pay off his gambling debts, and the demon ended up taking both of them.

Except worse, because Phil was perfect and Clint loved him and his father was a real _jerk_ , and his mother’s soul had been eaten when he was 3 by a shamanic goldfish.

But Phil, the perfect, brave, brilliant, ever so controlled Phil, almost died for the good of the community and Clint couldn’t do anything to help him, could only recount it for the benefit of all his listeners.

Thankfully, Reed Richards intervened, saving Phil by stretching and dragging him out of the pit. Clint almost fell sorry for the arm he lost because of the attacks, but he felt it was a just payment for all the offense the man did to their beautiful town over the years.

“Clint?”

He lept to his feet, barging into the main room of the station. Phil was standing awkwardly in the middle of the station, cradling his left arm, red spot adorning his usually crisp white shirt. Clint stopped abruptly.

“Ph-phil?”

The other man cleared his throat and shrugged carefully.

“Teddy Williams was too busy making sure Reed didn’t die from blood loss, and the hospital couldn’t take me in because the nurses are in their psychotic day of the month. I was wondering if you had a first aid kit or something?”

Clint spun around and ran to the electrical room, under the lawn-moving tractor where every first aid kit was required to be stored. When he came back, Phil had removed his shirt and undershirt, and was inspecting his arm.

“It doesn’t feel broken, I think it should be fine.”

Clint nodded, carefully not staring at the pulchritudinous torso Phil bared in front of his eyes.

“Ok, well, I have bandages, and plasters…”

Phil smiled at him and slowly let his arm fall down. Clint settled in front of him, using a gauze and some kind of antiseptic soap. Phil squeaked and tensed when he touched him with it. Without thinking, Clint’s wing spread out and wrapped themselves around Phil, caressing his back softly.

Phil tensed even more for a second before melting with a sigh. Clint smiled at him and his hands _absolutely_ did not shake at the display of confidence in Clint.

It took him over an hour to clean all the wounds. None of them were deep, but there were a lot of them, and Clint made a point of being _very thorough_.

Phil seemed to make lot efforts into controlling his breathing, and Clint felt bad for causing him pain. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to resent him for it. On the contrary, his eyes were open and clear and an expression Clint couldn’t describe, which, as a radio announcer wasn’t a phenomenon he appreciated very much.

Phil stared at him for a long time, before smiling.

“Thank you Clint thanks a lot.”

Clint smiled and made to step back, because Phil always stood three feet away from people, so Clint would do so too, and Phil would be happy. He had barely gotten to his feet when Phil’s hand snatched his wrist. Clint looked up and Phil smiled even brighter before tugging Clint toward him, gathering him in his arms, settling himself comfortably.

Clint’s heart had rocketed up in the outer space, so fast, so terribly fast. Phil kept an arm around him, and Clint carefully didn’t think about Phil’s bare chest.

“Phil?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you come here?”

Phil shrugged again, and it felt much too good.

“After everything that happened, I just wanted to see you.”

Clint sighed happily.

OOOOO

Somehow, Clint managed not to make the worst fool of itself on his first date with the genius, hilarious, marvellous, perfect Phil. He was pretty sure he would fuck up at some point, but today was not that day. They dined at Gino’s and walked in the park. Phil even let Clint do science with him, and it was amazing!

Even the buzzing shadow people weren’t enough to dampen his spirits. But now they were here, in front of Phil’ office, and his apartment above it, beside Big Rico’s. Clint stared at the wheel, fingers flexing, wings twitching behind him as the back of his seat had been removed to accommodate his particularities.

Phil unbuckled.

“This is me.”

Clint nodded, but didn’t look at him. At least, he didn’t, until Phil carefully took his jaw to turn his face toward him. Before Clint could register what was happening, Phil leaned in and kissed him. So soft, so good, so perfect.

Clint couldn’t resist carding his hands into Phil’s short hair, pressing his lips tighter against the other man’s. Phil moaned, and what he had obviously intended to be chaste and sweet turned heated, so amazingly heated.

Phil broke away.

“Do you want to come in?”

Clint stared at him.

“You want to—on the first date?”

Phil frowned unhappily.

“Is it forbidden by the City Council too?”

Clint berated himself.

“NO! No of course not, they encourage it even; it improves the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s evening.”

Phil cocked an eyebrow at him.

“So, do you want to?”

Clint almost ripped of the door in his haste to get out of the car, Phil following him, laughing softly.

When they got to the door, he let Phil step beside him to unlock the door, letting the other hand caress the place where his wings were attached to his shoulders. Clint whimpered helplessly, pressing himself against Phil’s side, tearing a growl out of the other man’s throat.

When they finally got into the hall, Phil pushed Clint against the wall. Automatically, his wings spread out. Phil looked apologetic, and Clint felt he was about to suggest they switched positions, which was the last thing he wanted, needed or desired at the moment.

He grabbed Phil’s hips, dragging him against him like his life depended on it. Phil went willingly; cradling Clint’s face like it was amazingly precious, like it was his lifeline.

In between frantic kisses, Clint managed to gasp “Bed. Now.” Phil complied, dragging him and pushing him down, kneeling in between Clint’s legs, which the man had spread on reflex.

Phil loomed over him, hands on each side of Clint’s head, staring down at him.

“You don’t make sense.”

Clint frowned up at him.

“Is it bad?”

Suddenly Phil beamed at him and fell down on him, capturing his lips in the most searing and soul illuminating kiss he ever experimented.

Phil’s hands were everywhere, and if Clint wasn’t watching them intently, he would never have believed there were only two of them. But Phil was perfect, and as such, made Clint feel perfect.

Phil was whispering softly against his skin. Clint didn’t understand the words, but they were amazing. He nodded, muttering “yes” over and over again. He wasn’t sure what he had agreed to, but this was Phil, and Phil was going to be superb whatever he did.

He only caught up with the program when he felt a probing finger in between in legs, a finger who quickly found its target. Clint moaned when the Phil slipped it in him.

It was good, so good.

Phil slipped another one in; meanwhile tracing Clint’s numerous tattoos with his tongue. Clint was boneless, hand fisting in the sheets. It was common knowledge and common sense that a partner pleasuring you shouldn’t be pressured into anything, and Clint desperately didn’t want to. However, Phil didn’t seem to appreciate.

“Clint?”

He forced himself to bring his eyes in front of their holes.

“Y’ah?”

Phil frowned.

“Is it ok?”

Clint nodded frantically.

“Then why aren’t you touching me?”

Clint frowned too, reaching with a shaky hand to touch Phil’s shoulder. The older man smiled softly at him and used the hand that wasn’t actually exploring Clint’s ass to thread their fingers together.

In took only a few minutes after that for Phil to deem the radio announcer ready to take him. He kneeled between his knees, wrapping Clint’s legs around his waist much like he had done himself when they flew together.

Emboldened by Phil’s apparent desire for contact, Clint folded his wings around Phil, cutting them from the rest of the world. Just the two of them, him and the gorgeous, perfect, brilliant Phil who somehow wanted him back.

Phil tried for a few moments to keep a slow and fluid pace, but Clint would have none of that. He bit down hard on Phil’s shoulder and used his wing to push down the older man’s hips harder, and he snapped his own up. Phil snarled, and took the matter in his own hands, surging forward and so well.

Clint literally exploded, his semen painting Phil’s belly with its habitual glowing green tint. Phil groaned and it only took a few more thrust to spill in Clint. He fell down and cuddled Clint against him, wings cocooning them, mindless of the mess in between them.

Phil sighed.

“You’re amazing.”

Clint smiled happily, and nosed Phil neck.

“I thought I didn’t made sense?”

Phil shrugged.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

OOOOO

Clint strolled toward Phil’s office, arguing with Stark over the phone.

“ _I still don’t get why I have to attend your boytoy’s ceremony again! You do the same thing every year!”_

Clint rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“Yeah, well, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but anniversaries come back in a year circle.”

Tony humphed.

_“At least you could do us a favor and celebrate his birthday.”_

Clint grunted and pouted.

“Phil refuses to tell me his birthday.”

Tony snorted.

“ _And that has nothing to do with the fact you organise a big party every year to celebrate his arrival in Night Vale?”_

Clint rolled his eyes again.

“Will you come?”

Tony didn’t have time to answer before Steve took the phone from him.

“ _We’ll be there, Clint. Do you want us to bring candied luminous octopus or shadowy translucent pears?”_

_“The octopus please, Natasha takes care of the fruits.”_

Tony yelled from behind somewhere.

“ _I’m doing this against my will.”_

Clint raised his voice somewhat.

“Go intercourse yourself!”

“ _Love you too, man.”_

Clint laughed and bid his good byes to Steve, just in time to open the door and enter the house they bought a few years back.

“Phil?”

The man popped his head from the door of the kitchen, smiling at him. From his time in Night Vale, and by always popping his nose where it shouldn’t go, Phil acquired a third eye on his forehead that could detect when people lied.

Phil was even more perfect for it.

The older man smiled indulgently at his radio announcer.

“You don’t have to do this every year.”

Clint shrugged, much better at affecting carelessness around Phil now, not that he ever fooled his husband.

“It’s important. It means you’re still here.”

Phil smiled and kissed him.

“Even Night Vale is not enough to take me down.”


End file.
